


Into the Dark

by Madam_Red



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Red/pseuds/Madam_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a quiet night, wrapped in the soft calls of nature and dripping of a beauty that was rare within the world of middle earth. It was peaceful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at http://estelheirofisildur.tumblr.com/  
> (If you want translations for elvish, then let me know and I might post them.)  
> An old drabble for http://bowofthegaladhrim.tumblr.com/, when it was her birthday.

Their camp had been on the outskirts of Imadris, and the moon had painted the sky with hues of silver through the clouds. Shadows weaving in and out of the red firelight that cast a glow high upon the bows of the trees.

It was a quiet night, wrapped in the soft calls of nature and dripping of a beauty that was rare within the world of middle earth. It was peaceful.

Aragorn had taken guard at the edge of the camp, perched high in the bows of a welcoming spruce that did not creek under his weight. He was motionless within that shadow, silver eyes keen as he listened to the night. Somewhere behind him he could hear the voices of his brothers melding into the laughter of a few rangers. Times like this were few and far between for them. They needed the reprieve; to have mirth where it could be found to strength their hearts against the darkness that continued to chase them in the shadows.

Aragorn however could not bring himself to take part in their laughter, instead, he had excused himself some time ago to sweep the perimeter. He had never returned, and instead took up watch. His mind too plagued with mist and shadow to find mirth with his men.

He took in a breath through his pipe and let it exhale with stream of smoke. The grey puffs swirled upwards, twinning into the leaves around him before it caught in the wind and blew away. Upon his left shoulder perched the sleek frame of a dozing companion; white and black feathers ruffled lightly against the breeze. The Gyrfalcon seemed to have sheltered itself against the chill of the air by hunkering down alongside its owner’s neck.

Mayhap it was the scent of his pipe that gave him away, or perhaps his routine was far too predictable. But Aragorn knew he had been found when the feathered companion jerked from sleep and stared blindly through the darkness. Seconds later he heard what it had; the soft rustle of pine needles against leather. Slowly he tightened his fingers around the hilt of the dagger at his hip; for a sword would ring too loudly if drawn. He eased the weight from its scabbard, and clenched the weight of his pipe between his teeth.

Pine needles were rustled again, just faintly, almost beyond the range of his hearing and yet close enough to identify their owner. Somewhere behind him one of his men gave a particularly loud laugh, and the noise of it made him wince. They could be surrounded, and the fools had filled their bottle-less stomachs with enough drink to dull their senses.

There was a flash of metal in the darkness below him, and Aragorn held his breath as he listened. The wind had gone still. The soft melody of the night had gone quiet.

Pine needles were disturbed one final time. Just below him down. Aragorn sprung.

His weight dropped upon a slender form, and the feathered companion upon his shoulder took to the air in a powerful screech. The call preceded an elven curse and Aragorn found himself pinning the fair form of a familiar blonde to the forest floor.

Blue stared into gray, and Aragorn found himself grinning in the pale moonlight as he quickly pulled his blade away from the slender neck it had been held against. Similarly he felt the weight of something aimed against his stomach withdrawal.

”Goheno nin,” Aragorn voiced as he quickly moved to release his captive from his weight. Although no sooner had he moved to stand then he landed promptly upon his back in a bed of dried needles. He gasped, white glaring into his vision before the sharp sting of pain ran through his skull. Well he had deserved that.

He grunted and it was his own turn to glare when he felt two slender thighs balance themselves just over his hips. Grey met blue again, only now it was his elven counterpart smirking downward.

“Ni goheno ci, nîn meleth.” The blonde teased, and Aragorn sighed when he felt lengthy fingers coming to rest over his chest.

“Ni ‘lassui.” Aragorn drawled, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his head before he continued speaking. “Ni ellen tíro ci, Legolas, man cerig hí?”

”Odulen an gi têw an cîn adar, te pent ci van imlad.” Legolas mused, sliding fingers up along the ranger’s tunic until they grasped at the shoulder. “Ni aníra cen-ci.” This last part was voiced almost softly, and it earned a smile upon the human’s lips.

”Cîn tíro nin.” Aragorn murmured, fingers reaching upwards into the darkness to catch along the cheek of his elf. He could only see the light hint of blonde hair pooling down around those shoulders and the faint hue of blue eyes in shadows. But he didn’t need to see to know those features. His fingers captured the back of the elf’s neck, and in one light tug he drew the elf down against him. Aragorn found no resistance in the lips that he claimed in the darkness.

Their kiss was slow, languid, and filled with all the longing that had mounted between them in the months that had separated them. They fell into a gentle unison, breathing in pauses that warmed the air between them. The forest became filled with gentle laughter droning in the background, the soft crackle of a fire, and faint sighs of pleasure.

By the time that Aragorn emerged from the forest to join the campfire, several hours had slid by. Curious glances were given to the blond elf that emerged from the darkness half a step behind the human. None lingered except the thoughtful gaze of Elrohir and Elladan; humans far too drunk to notice the subtle details. The disheveled hair and the earth stained cloaks were easy give-aways. But it was the manner in which their brother sat a bit too close to the sindarin elf, the way their eyes held a particular gleam of shared delight— the twins knew well that look. The faint gleam of a fresh coupling was hard to ignore, and these two did nothing to even hide it! Elrohir gave a glance to his twin, and Elladan shook his head lightly.

“Did you know they…?” Elrohir hissed out softly.  
“Nay! I knew not.” Elledan whispered back, “Father shalln’t be happy.”  
“Father!?” Elrohir asked, “Not only father, but I as well! That wild woodland scoundrel, how dare he!”  
“Ro’, relax,” Elledan murmured softly, reaching to squeeze his brother’s wrist comfortingly. “They look happy.” Elrohir scowled, but, turned thoughtful to regard the younger couple.

He observed the subtle way the blonde set his weight against the brunette’s side, the way slender fingers plucked a stray leaf from the unruly locks and grinned when human puffed his breath out at him. Yet, Elrohir conceded, they looked so peaceful. He could not remember a time when he had seen his brother happier—it was as if the woodland prince had quelled his thoughts of shadow and filled him with light.

”..I’m not telling Ada,” Elrohir voiced finally.  
“Oh,” Elledan said. “I think he’ll find out on his own soon enough.”


End file.
